Martyrs
by Grissbabe
Summary: He could handle his “issues” by himself. He didn’t need anyone’s help, least of all Cameron’s. Sequel to The Price of Perfection. HouseCameron


Author's note: I know… I suck. It's taken me too long to get this up. I had some family visiting and then I had it all typed up and ready to go, but something was bugging me badly, so I went back AGAIN and tinkered some more with it. Thank you so much for the response I got for _The Price of Perfection_ (formerly titled Giving Up). What a boost of confidence. I don't have the time to write very often, but it's good to know that when I do make the time to do it that people are actually enjoying what I write. So thanks a lot, kids. I want to thank the people who helped with the title on my last fic and with this one. Sadly I have forgotten who offered up the name for this fic. If you drop me a line and remind me I will ABSOLUTELY give you credit. This is a continuation of _The Price of Perfection_. I don't write in chapters. I'm too much of a perfectionist. This picks up where the last fic left off. It is also not the end of the story. There will be a follow up to this as well that I have already started writing, so hopefully the wait won't be too long. Enjoy. Reviews are wonderful and helpful, good or otherwise, so keep them coming.

Thanks to CarefullyAskingGrace from YTDAW for being my beta! Tenk you, dahling! And thank you to csishewolf for letting me know if my story sucked or not. She's my bitch…she does what I say:P.

Disclaimer: Don't own the show…Fox does. Yadda yadda yadda. If I owned the show I'd be throwing rotten tomatoes at the Emmy voters right now. Overlooking Hugh for a lead actor nod? WTF? And overlooking David Shore and Lawrence Kaplow for writing nods! Idiots…..

End rant.

And away we go……………..

Martyrs

By Grissbabe….aka Housecam

_8:47 am_

'_My fucking head.'_

This was his punishment for getting so wasted the night before. The morphine always made him feel sluggish and achy the next day. Add all the bourbon he'd drank to the mix and he was suffering from the hangover from Hell. And to top it off, he vaguely remembered blubbering like a little bitch to Cameron. How humiliating.

_Cameron._

The memory of her skin beneath his fingers and her lips dancing across his own. _Fuck._ It certainly wasn't a bad memory- after all, he _was_ a man and she was a hot chick. What guy _wouldn't_ react to that? The problem was that now he'd complicated things between them. He was a fucking mess and she was the pretty, damaged girl looking for a soul to save. The last thing he needed or wanted right now was that kind of drama.

He just had a bad night; a bad case that was brought to him too late. It wasn't his fault that the kid died. And he'd really needed the morphine. His leg had been acting up all day yesterday and sometimes the Vicodin just didn't cut it. He had a physical ailment that required extreme measures at times to control.

He could handle his "issues" by himself. He didn't need anyone's help, least of all Cameron's.

He popped a couple Vicodin from the bottle on his night stand.

_Denial is a lovely thing._

_6:26 am_

The stabbing pain throughout Cameron's neck had awoken her; that and the awkwardness that immediately washed over her.

After House had his "breakdown" she'd led him down the hall, checking in every doorway 'til she found what she assumed was his bedroom. After helping him lie down she removed his Nikes and pulled the blanket over his trembling shoulders. Within minutes he was out cold and she crashed on the couch, intent on confronting him when he woke up about the night's events.

Now that didn't seem like such a good idea.

'He'll probably wake up with a horrible hangover and mood to match,' she thought to herself. She decided to give him some space and some time to collect himself. The last thing she wanted to do was attempt a serious conversation with a pissed off, hungover House. Quietly collecting her keys and cell phone off the coffee table, she slipped out the door.

"Where the hell is House?" Cuddy demanded, her blood boiling. "It's 10:30. He was due in the clinic a half an hour ago."

Cameron, Chase and Foreman were seated at the table in the conference room waiting for their boss to arrive as well.

"He isn't here yet," Foreman stated, briefly looking up from his newspaper.

The door to the conference room opened as House limped painfully into the room, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes.

Cuddy eyed him disgustedly. "Gee, House…rough night?"

He glanced briefly at Cameron before planting a smirk on his face.

"Pulled an all-nighter with a stripper. Probably shouldn't have tried that reverse cowboy move, though. Did a number on the leg."

"Stop…just…stop. Too much information. Just get your butt to the clinic," Cuddy replied, holding a hand to her head as she quickly left the Diagnostic Department.

Shrugging nonchalantly he turned his attention to his team.

"Go away. Find something to do. Go home…whatever. Daddy has a hangover," he said, waving them off and heading into his office.

Foreman, eager to actually work, and Chase, eager to go home, got up from the table and collected their things. Cameron pretended to be cleaning up the sink area as they beat a hasty retreat. Once they were out of sight she crept towards House's office, watching as he walked around closing the blinds.

_Here goes nothing._

She opened the door leading into his office as he removed his sunglasses and collapsed on the lounge chair by the door.

"House…"

"Cameron…" he replied, closing his eyes and laying back.

Taking a deep breath, she approached him cautiously.

"House…I think we need to talk about…last night."

"What's there to talk about? I was wasted…not thinking straight," he replied, not opening his eyes.

Cameron swallowed down the hurt she could feel welling up inside her to press him further.

"House, you have a problem-"

"I'm fine, Cameron," he said, opening his eyes and leveling his gaze at her.

Cameron could feel her face flush with anger.

"That wasn't the case last night. You were a mess. You ARE a mess. Christ, House…you're shooting morphine-"

"Only when the pain is real bad. I don't do it all the time," he yelled, wincing as he rose from the chair to stand in front of her.

"Really? The track marks on your arm say otherwise!"

Grabbing her arm, House pulled Cameron across the room as quickly as his limp would allow towards his desk.

"Keep your voice down!"

"I'm not gonna pretend like last night didn't happen, House. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you slowly kill yourself."

House's eyes darkened as he glared at her. "It's none of your business, Cameron. It's my life."

"Oh, but you're wrong. You made it my business when I had to go pick your wasted ass up. You made it my business when you kissed me-"

"It was a mistake, so drop it, Cameron. Stay out of my life," he glowered, refusing to look her in the eye.

Cameron dropped her eyes to the floor, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Fine," she replied softly as she walked out of his office.

He watched her leave as he slumped down into his desk chair, rubbing his aching thigh. _Damn leg. Damn Cameron._ A wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled the look of hurt that reflected in Cameron's eyes. 'God, I'm a bastard,' he thought to himself. Drumming his fingers on his desk he reluctantly rose from his chair to head towards the clinic. 'Nothing like a few mindless hours of clinic duty to take my mind off of things,' he mused, limping heavily towards the elevators.

"So my friend and I decided we were, like, gonna pierce our noses, but like…we didn't have the money to go to a place to have it done. So…like…he was like, 'Fuck that shit! I can do it for free. It's easy.' So he, like, pierced it with a safety pin and…"

House tried to pay attention to his patient, whose nose was red, swollen, and obviously infected, but the pain in his leg had intensified greatly within the past hour. He swallowed convulsively as another wave of nausea hit him. He was sweating profusely and his hands kept shaking as he tried in vain to massage the aching muscles. Mopping his sweaty brow with his jacket sleeve, he struggled to control his ragged breathing.

"…so he said it would be cool, but it's, like…not. It's all red and it hurts and stuff. And like…hey dude, are you okay? You look like you're gonna puke or something."

House pulled his prescription pad out of his pocket. He quickly scribbled out the medication before slapping it into the hands of the greasy-haired human pin cushion in front of him.

"Well," he glanced down at the file on the counter, "Jake…I'm just fine. But you might want to start investing in some soap and toothpaste. The stench coming off you would make anyone wanna puke. Your nose is infected, dumbass. Take out the damn piercing and take that antibiotic and you'll be fine. Just think of it as one less thing to set off the metal detectors at your school," he said as he opened the supply drawer and removed a syringe and an alcohol swab, slipping them into his pocket. Grabbing his cane, he shuffled out of the room.

After calibrating the centrifuge for the third time that week Cameron gave up looking for busy work and begrudgingly headed towards the clinic. Approaching the front desk, she signed herself in and reached for a patient file.

"He looks like hell," said Brenda, the head nurse, from behind the desk.

Cameron asked who as she looked up to see House painfully limping out of one of the exam rooms and heading down the hall. Dropping the file back on the desk, Cameron turned to smile slightly at the nurse.

"Right. I'll, um, be right back," she said as he started off down the hall after House, staying far enough away so he didn't know she was behind him. He slowed down as he approached the door heading into the men's locker room. Ducking behind a corner, she watched as he grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand and entered, pulling the door closed behind him.

'Maybe he's just taking a shower or something,' Cameron mused.

While Cameron debated with herself on whether to enter the locker room, House shuffled into one of the shower stalls, pulling the curtain closed. He slumped down onto the seat in the stall and removed his coat. Reaching into the pocket he pulled out a vial of morphine, the alcohol swab, and the syringe. Realizing he'd forgotten a tourniquet, he reached down and unbuckled his belt. Yanking it through the belt loops, he pulled up the sleeve of his red button-up shirt and wrapped the belt tightly around his upper arm. He swabbed the area then inserted the needle into the morphine vial, withdrawing his normal dose. Another jolt of pain shot through his leg, making him grit his teeth to keep from crying out loud. He looked back at the syringe and morphine vial in his hand. "Maybe just a little more," he muttered as he withdrew almost double his normal dose. Sliding the needle into his vein, he depressed the plunger of the syringe slowly before removing the belt from his arm. His head lolled forward and his eyes slid closed as the drug hit him like a freight train. His chest felt tight and his breathing became shallow. Through his haze he felt his muscles begin to twitch slightly and a cold sweat wash over him.

_Oh shit._

_Too much._

_Twitching muscles. Labored breathing. Losing consciousness._

_Overdose._

_Fuck._

Cameron stood outside the locker room for over ten minutes listening for the sound of a shower running. Something…anything. 'To hell with this,' she thought, her concern for his wellbeing overcoming her anger at him from that morning. She quietly opened the door and crept inside.

"House?"

When she received no answer she approached the row of shower stalls. As she came closer she saw House's Nike-clad foot sticking out slightly from underneath the curtain of one of the stalls.

"House, are you-"

The words cut off in her throat as she pulled back the curtain and found House slumped against the corner of the stall, pale and covered in sweat. She quickly dropped to her knees beside him, assessing his condition. His breathing was slow and wispy. His skin felt cold and clammy as she felt his thready pulse beneath her fingertips. Pulling out her penlight she grasped his face in her hands. His pupils were pinpoints and his eyes were rolling back into his head. Spotting the syringe and the morphine vial on the floor, she began to panic.

"How much did you take, House! How much did you take!"

His body tensed and he began to twitch uncontrollably. Cameron stood up and ran to the door and threw it open in a panicky haste.

"I need a gurney in here!"

Two hours later House was sleeping soundly in a private room. Cameron sat in the chair beside his bed, lost in thought.

"What happened?" came the worried voice of Wilson from the doorway.

Cameron broke out of her reverie and acknowledged him. "He overdosed. Morphine," she replied, her face blank and emotionless.

Furiously rubbing the back of his neck, Wilson entered the room and stared at the pale face of his friend as Cameron continued.

"We performed a gastric lavage…administered activated charcoal and laxatives. He's on IV fluids…naloxone hydrochloride…narcotic antagonist to counteract…"

It was then that Wilson shifted his gaze to Cameron, noticing her hands were starting to shake.

"He should be okay in twenty-four to seventy-two hours. He'll be fine," she continued, her voice starting to hitch.

"Cameron…hey'" Wilson said tenderly as he crouched down beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay."

Cameron shifted her gaze to Wilson, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You so sure about that? He's killing himself, Wilson."

Wilson released a deep, frustrated sigh. "I know. I just don't know what to do to make him stop."

Cameron looked back to House's still form, a look of determination settling on her face.

"I do," she said softly as she stood and left the room, leaving a bewildered Wilson behind.

Cuddy sat in her office trying to busy herself with paperwork, but thoughts of House and his latest crash and burn kept invading her mind. She was furious that he had taken it upon himself to administer the morphine. If his leg had truly been acting up she would have helped him out, but the fact that he had taken enough to overdose scared her. Was he trying to kill himself? She noticed that he had seemed distant and distracted as of late, but chalked it up to House just being House. Maybe she was wrong all along. She looked up as the slender form of Allison Cameron entered her office.

"Dr. Cuddy, we need to talk. About House."

Three days later House was limping through the front doors of the hospital headed towards the elevators, studiously avoiding the stares of the nurses and doctors who had heard of his latest escapade. He rode the elevator up to the Diagnostic wing and limped as fast as he could to his office. As he approached the door he saw Cuddy seated at his desk. He paused to pop a Vicodin in his mouth before entering.

"Why, Dr. Cuddy, you're not going through my porn collection on my computer, are you? That would be an invasion of privacy. Or were you just looking for the girl on girl stuff? Come on, admit it, that stuff turns you on, doesn't it?"

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Cuddy tried desperately to keep her temper in check before exhaling loudly and fixing her gaze on House.

"There's a meeting this afternoon with the Board at 3:00 pm. You are required to attend. Do I make myself clear?"

House cocked his head to the side, thinning his eyes. "What's this about? Why do I have to be there?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Greg. You know very well what it's about. Be there or I will send security to find you and drag you down there. Do I make myself _clear_?"

House averted her gaze, staring down at his shoes before lifting his head and planting a smirk on his face. "Crystal clear…Lisa."

He watched her brisk exit before entering the conference room. Foreman and Chase were sitting at the table drinking coffee.

"Where's Cameron?" House asked gruffly.

"She's not here. Haven't heard from her. She's not answering her cell or house phone either," Chase replied, staring down at the crossword puzzle in front of him.

"She probably just doesn't want to see you or have to talk to you, House," Foreman muttered bitterly under his breath.

"Excuse me? Speak up there, homie. Didn't quite hear you."

"You heard me," he started, standing up from the table with murder in his eyes. " Did you know that she was the one who found your junkie ass half dead in the locker room? Huh? You know what, House, if you wanna kill yourself…do it at home. Don't drag the people of this hospital into your misery," Foreman spat as he stormed out of the conference room.

Chase glanced up at House sheepishly, a look of disappointment in his eyes, before following Foreman out the door.

House stood rooted to the floor, stunned by Foreman's outburst. _They don't trust me anymore._ Sighing deeply, he entered his office, closing all the blinds and locking the doors. He wanted to brood in peace.

House spent his morning playing his Gameboy and listening to his iPod, dozing off in his lounge chair around noon. He awoke by the obnoxious ringing of his office phone. Choosing to ignore it, he rolled over. The ringing stopped and was replaced by Cuddy's voice booming out over the hospital intercom.

"Dr. House to the Board room NOW."

Groaning deeply, he grabbed his cane, rubbing the sleep furiously from his eyes with his free hand. Taking the pill bottle from his pocket, he popped a couple Vicodin then stood up and exited his office.

_Dead man walking…._

House entered the Board room, eyeing all the board members suspiciously. Looking to Wilson, James averted his gaze, picking nervously at a bagel. Looking further down the table, House was surprised to see Cameron sitting in a chair beside Cuddy.

Thinning his eyes in confusion, he looked around the table. "What is this about?" He directed a glare towards Cameron. "Where the hell have you been all day?"

Cameron dropped her eyes to the table as Cuddy spoke up. "Dr. House, please sit down so we can start this meeting."

Glancing back to Wilson he saw James nod his head slightly before he finally sat down. He couldn't help but feel cornered and outnumbered, like a wild animal on the defense.

"Dr. House, as we all know, you had an accidental overdose of morphine a few days ago-"

"Yeah, my bad. The leg was acting up…could barely walk. I made an oopsie. Sorry about that," House interrupted her with a shrug.

Sighing deeply, she continued. "Dr. House…it has come to our attention from Dr. Cameron that the morphine use has become…a habit…and that you are regularly shooting up-"

"Dr. Cameron would be wrong. I can assure you of that," House interrupted again, shooting a hateful glare in Cameron's direction.

Cameron felt her throat tighten and her mouth go dry. _Please, House…._

"Well…considering the most recent events, I'm inclined to believe Dr. Cameron. I also saw the track marks on your arm while you were still unconscious." Cuddy softened here gaze, a look of sadness and guilt passing over her features. "The Board has discussed this matter. It is the decision of this Board that you be suspended for a period of sixty days. It is our hope that during this time you will seek help for your addictions. The hospital is willing to do everything it can to help you during this time. If you choose not to do so…" Cuddy paused, staring hard at the table, "…you will be terminated from this hospital."

'They all just want me gone. One less problem to deal with.' Dropping his eyes to his hands, he peered up at Wilson and called his name.

Looking up from his demolished bagel, Wilson leveled his gaze at House, a somber look in his eyes. "You need to do this, Greg."

Looking back to Cameron, he replied darkly as he rose from his chair. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Cameron returned his stare with one of her own, pleading with him through her eyes to understand why she was doing this.

House stormed out of the room and popped a Vicodin before heading brusquely down the hall towards the elevators.

Cameron rose from her chair and ran towards the doors. Wilson reached out to try and stop her., but she slipped through his grip and out of the Board Room. "Cameron, wait!"

Spotting House down the hall, she ran to catch up to him.

"House, wait! Please!" She caught his coat sleeve and begged him to turn around.

House spun around quickly, yanking his arm from her grasp and fixing her with an icy glare. "I hate you. Stay out of my life," he said in a low voice, his words dripping with venom.

Cameron gasped before swallowing convulsively, tears springing to her eyes. "House…" she said weakly, her voice hitching with sobs. The tears fell as he stormed away from her toward the awaiting elevator.

It was a look of fear that she saw in his eyes as the doors slowly closed.


End file.
